A Promise Kept
by Julia451
Summary: "When your brother gets married, I swear I won't miss that one!" Twenty-years later, 30-year-old Elizabeth Devine dances with a mysterious stranger at her brother's wedding. Contains Nigel/Lizzie romance (and more friendship) but is *NOT* a shipping fic about getting the two together.


Wow... he had actually gone through with it. Liz smiled as she watched the new Mr. and Mrs. Devine twirl around on the dance floor, almost unable to believe that was the little brother whose diaper she used to change over twenty years ago. Maybe she was entitled to be surprised – twenty-four was pretty young to get married nowadays. Of course, the bride was four years older than him, so she wouldn't want to wait. Neither of his sisters could imagine how she had talked him into it, but they couldn't deny the couple looked happy. The wedding had certainly been beautiful... all the plans had gone smoothly, the ceremony had gone perfectly... her niece had made a lovely flower girl...

With a sudden churn in her stomach, Liz shook off the memory of the little girl walking down the aisle a few hours ago. She was starting to wonder why, even though she'd kept her vow not to cry during the ceremony, that part had made her feel so uncomfortable that she'd had to look away, when the change in music brought her out of her thoughts. The special dances were over; everyone was free to dance now. Couples around the room took to the floor – her parents, her sister and brother-in-law, her cousin/the best man with the bride's sister/maid of honor (those two sure had hit it off)... Everyone seemed to be having fun – looked like the reception would be a success as well...

Liz could sense another unpleasant feeling building up in her stomach, only to stop when a man (the bride's cousin, she thought) asked her to dance. Hmm... he wasn't bad looking. Beaming, she put down her champagne and let him lead her to the floor, relieved that she hadn't been the only person to come alone. She and her last boyfriend had broken up two months ago (he was just so clingy!). As her mother had pointed out, there were other guys she could have invited (one of her brother's friends had even asked her), but she just hadn't felt like it. She just hadn't been able to picture herself having fun with any of the men she knew. For some reason, she'd preferred to come alone. And why not? It wasn't a crime.

It hadn't been a mistake, either. She was no wallflower – even without a date, she was kept busy dancing, chatting, or eating every minute of the reception. Family she hadn't seen in years asked her how the real estate market was doing, wanted to hear all about the houses she'd sold since the last get-together, and complimented her on her new haircut and contacts. Even better, nobody mentioned how much weight she'd lost (which was true but never felt like a compliment). She stole a dance with her brother and congratulated him for the hundredth time today, but he escaped before she could ruffle his hair. When her grandma jokingly told her it was her turn next and asked when they'd be coming back for _her_ wedding, she was able to laugh it off with no effort. (Maybe she would have been embarrassed if a younger _sister_ had gotten married before she did, but a younger brother was no disgrace.)

All in all, there was never an idle moment. She met a lot of new men from the bride's side of the guest list, although none of them blew her away with their charms or made her desperately hope they would ask for her cell number – they were nice, just not very interesting. Well, she wasn't on the hunt at the moment anyway. Still, some distant part of her mind wished she _had_ met someone interesting, or that something interesting had happened. She was glad the wedding and reception had gone smoothly, but shouldn't there have been a little more excitement? A champagne cork blasting off, something briefly catching on fire, a scuffle breaking out and ending with the combatants knocking over a dessert table, a few pieces of cake getting thrown around the room... nothing disastrous, but memorable enough to be worth putting on Youtube and telling the kids about years later. She supposed the bride and groom were satisfied, but Liz couldn't help thinking that she would be... disappointed if nothing exciting happened to mark her special day. It didn't seem right otherwise... Why did she expect something like that?

Finally needing to rest her legs, she grabbed a seat at one of the small, round tables lining the ballroom. As she surveyed the couples currently dancing, a chocolate pastry and a glass of champagne at her elbow, a tiny sensation of gloom began to seep into the back of her mind. The wedding had been nice, yes, but she had expected it to be more... fun. Without understanding why, she sighed, knowing she was having a good time, yet feeling bored. Maybe she _was_ feeling melancholy that her own wedding hadn't come yet, but why should she? It wasn't like she had ever met someone she _wanted_ to marry...

She was shaking off an abrupt, inexplicable jitter at that last thought when she heard a throat clearing nearby. She turned her head to the left and saw a man she didn't recognize – young (but not youthful), handsome, with light brown hair, not smiling yet looking happy – standing by her table's empty chair. "Is this seat taken?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Be my guest." She had half-turned away when she paused, raised her eyebrow, and turned back to face him as he sat down. No, she didn't recognize him, but there was something... familiar about him.

He took a drink of what looked like soda from his own glass before turning back to her. His face was calm, relaxed, as if he'd just finished taking a hard exam, yet there was something intense, almost urgent, in his gray eyes. "Do I know you?" he asked.

Shouldn't that have been _her_ line? Liz looked at him carefully, trying to recall where she'd seen him before. But she couldn't have – he had the strangest accent she'd ever heard (not unpleasant – in fact, it was rather attractive – just unfamiliar, impossible to place); she definitely would have remembered if she'd ever heard that voice before. She'd probably just caught sight of him at some point earlier today, and her brain hadn't consciously recorded it. She shook her head again and said (not too confidently), "No... I don't think so..."

"You sure?"

What? Was he using that as a pick-up line? "Pretty sure – why?"

He merely shrugged. He certainly didn't look like he was flirting with her. "If you say so." He spoke so slowly, as if every syllable held immense importance. He looked forward and took a deep breath before taking another sip of his drink and placing it on the table, now smiling brightly, even though the intensity had not faded from his gaze. He pointed across the hall at the bride and groom, who were now standing off to the side, trying to drink from two glasses with their wrists intertwined. "You're...?" he began.

"His sister," she finished for him. "Elizabeth, but outside of the office or fights with my mother or father, I go by Liz." She was about to ask him his name when her brother accidentally jerked his arm, and his new wife got soaked.

"Looks like their team needs more practice with that move," the stranger observed, laughing along with her.

"Finally, something interesting," Liz said with a grin as she pulled out her cell phone and started snapping away before the bride could regain her dignity. She was taking it like a trooper, though, laughing as loudly as her audience as her husband tried to wipe her off.

"Impressive recovery," the stranger said with a nod.

"Yeah, she wouldn't let a little spill like that ruin her big day."

The stranger's eyes roved around the room. "Yes, I think they can definitely declare this operation a success."

What was he, a professor? Liz smiled at the way he talked as she followed his gaze. "So far."

"Having a good time?"

She nodded and answered, "Oh, yeah, sure – you having fun?" before taking another bite of her pastry.

The stranger shrugged, his grin widening slightly. "I'm... satisfied. I didn't come here to have fun, though."

"Oh?" That was an odd statement. He didn't sound like being here was a chore, like some of her relatives. "You didn't _want_ to come?" Was he involved in one of those family feuds where you couldn't bear to be in the same room with another person, so he'd fully intended to stay away, but another relative (The bride? Parent? Grandparent?) had threatened never to speak to him again if he didn't show up? Was his only goal to make it through the event without an explosion?

He shook his head briefly as he turned to face her again. "Oh, no, I _wanted_ to be here. I _had_ to be here."

Why did she find the way he talked so amusing? Liz's eyes flicked up and down his face once before, still smiling, she asked, "Why?"

As she sipped her champagne, he looked away from her and answered, in an odd but steady voice (you could sense the emphasis on each word but not hear it), "I promised someone I wouldn't miss it."

Liz nodded in understanding. "Oh..." Her first guess had been wrong; he probably just had some very demanding, important job that he could never afford to take time off from, but when his cousin or neighbor or childhood friend or whoever was getting married, he couldn't miss it, no matter what. He'd come to fulfill his duty – how sweet. She hoped he wasn't counting down the minutes until it was over, though – weddings should be enjoyed, not endured. "Well, as long as you're here, you might as well enjoy it," she suggested.

The intensity had returned to his eyes when he turned back to her, his eyes piercing through her own. "I intend to." She froze with the rim of her glass between her lips. Something about the way he looked at her, about the solemn, determined way he said that, made her shiver all over. Not with fear (not in the slightest), but... with what?

Before she could figure it out, he looked up – the music had changed again. A new song was beginning. He stood up. "How about I start right now?"

The mysterious feeling had vanished as quickly as it had come. "Good idea," Liz happily agreed.

He held his hand out to her. "Care to join me?"

She now realized she'd been hoping he would say that – he was definitely the most interesting person she'd met here tonight. She shrugged as she pushed her chair back, stood up, and took the offered hand. "Why not?" As they strolled over to the dance floor, she added, "I hope your date doesn't mind." Why did she say that?

"I'm sure she won't, since I came alone."

Liz was genuinely surprised – she'd been sure someone with his looks, his voice, his manner... Oh, well. "You, too, huh?"

He nodded as they took their place. He didn't ask, "What's a pretty girl like you doing here alone?" or something like guys did when they were hitting on you. He just said matter-of-factly, "That would have defeated the purpose."

Liz didn't have time to ask him to explain that – as he placed his hand around her waist and she placed hers on his shoulder, she felt another flash of something she couldn't identify or explain (like a weak version of the horror that hits you when you realize you've forgotten something very important but can't remember what), but it fizzled out almost instantly. "I love this song," she said casually as they started spinning around – it was formal but not too slow; you were actually able to move with energy. She knew it well, having rehearsed it a million times over the past few weeks. It was obvious from the way he moved that her partner didn't know it, but he followed her lead expertly, successfully going through the steps with military-like precision, refusing to let himself falter. She began to wonder if he _was_ in the military, he was so alert and guarded yet quick on his feet, moving so carefully yet smoothly. It felt less like dancing and more like making their way stealthily across a field of landmines. And she loved it.

"What's so funny?" the stranger asked.

He was very perceptive. Why did she feel so giddy anyway? It must be because it was the first really interesting dance she'd had all day. "Just wondering where you learned to dance," she said for explanation.

He grinned awkwardly. "I admit, I _am_ out of practice..."

"Could've fooled me," she said (how her mother would cringe if she heard that tactless compliment!). Why not just come right out and ask? "You in the Marine Corps or something, by any chance?"

"The Marines?" he laughed. "No, I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure. Why? Are you?"

"Oh, no, I'm in real estate."

His face lit up when she told him that. "You got into real estate?"

"Uh... yeah." Why did he sound so excited?

"When did you start?"

He spent the next several minutes asking her questions about her career. Always happy to talk about her chosen line of work, Liz answered them all, albeit not without some confusion over his enthusiasm. She told him all about her firm and office, how she'd gotten started, the types of houses she was dealing in lately, the state of the market and what tricks one needed to know to succeed, and what types of people she had to deal with. He seemed very curious to hear about it all, always asking for more details, more specifics, as if nothing could possibly be more fascinating to him. But he didn't only want facts; he asked how much she liked it, how difficult it was, what her future plans were... Liz couldn't resist talking about her dream profession and how much she enjoyed it to someone so eager to listen, but she couldn't deny how weird it was. Why was he so interested her career? Maybe he had considered going into the same field and regretted not doing so?

"Sounds like you've really done well for yourself," the stranger said finally as he spun her around.

Liz shrugged as she put her hand back on his shoulder. "I guess you could say that."

"Are you happy?"

Somewhere in the back of her mind was the thought that such personal questioning should creep her out, or at least offend her, but it didn't. Not even a little. So she answered, "Absolutely. Living my dream."

"I'm so happy for you." He looked and sounded completely sincere.

Why should someone she met only a few minutes ago be so concerned about her happiness? It was like he really cared about her. He must have been one of those overly-friendly types who treated every stranger they passed on the street as a close, personal friend. Funny – he otherwise didn't give her that vibe at all. Her eyebrow raised in suspicion again, Liz said, "Thank you..." for lack of an idea of any better response. She tried to think of a natural follow-up question that could lead to some answers and came up with, "You in real estate, too?"

The stranger gave a slight laugh and said, "No, nothing like that," but didn't offer any more details.

She was forced to ask him directly, "Oh? What line of work are you in?"

"Uh... I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. My job is... classified. Very sensitive."

If anyone else had told her that, she would have been sure they were either unemployed and embarrassed, or about to try to scam her somehow; she couldn't bring herself to think either this time. Could she really be dancing with a spy or government agent? Hah, probably not, but it was fun to imagine – his demeanor made it too easy. "Sounds dangerous," she said flippantly.

He shrugged. "In a way. Sometimes. But it's the job I was put on this Earth to do." Liz stopped short and stared directly at him. What he'd just said... why did it... why did she...? Judging by the look he was giving her back, the stranger obviously had noticed how his words had jolted her; he made no comment on it, just pulled her along and helped her get back in the rhythm. He kept talking as she stared over his shoulder, half-dazed, wondering what was up with her brain, trying not to lose her balance. "I sometimes wonder what life would have been like if I had never left here, but I've never regretted what I've chosen to do with my life."

_Left here..._ For some reason, that brought her back to her senses. Curious, she gave herself a quick shake and met his eyes again. "Oh, you're from around here?"

The stranger nodded and glanced around the room, but in a way that showed he was looking beyond the walls. "I grew up here. This town's home to all my best childhood memories." The sound he made was too faint to be called a sigh. "But I had to leave years ago for my career."

"You've never been back?"

"Once or twice, here and there. For business. I've kept in touch with some old friends, but we can't talk much."

"You miss the old homestead much?" she asked next, surprised by how sad she sounded. And felt. Why? For him? He didn't sound that sad.

"Of course. This is where my dad taught me the family business. Where I built my first treehouse. Where I met my first girlfriend." There was something undeniably attractive about the way he shook his head and smiled during that last one; she could almost see the memories replaying in his mind.

Liz smiled back, mischievously. "Ooh... was it serious?"

"Well, I loved her. As much as I knew how to love at the time. And she loved me."

Something about that didn't make sense. "Then why didn't it last?"

The stranger shrugged again. "We just had different... things we wanted to do with our lives. I was so focused on my career, and she... she had different interests. She wanted someone with a different lifestyle, and I needed someone I had more in common with. Someone who shared the same goals. Who I could go down the same path with. It never would have worked out. It hurt at the time, but she was right to break up with me."

"_She_ broke up with _you?!_" Liz could have kicked herself for saying that, in such an indignant tone. She couldn't help it! He should have been the one to dump someone too demanding and selfish and insensitive to support him and his goals!

Well, at least all he did was smirk, looking more amused by her outburst than offended. He grunted, obviously stifling a laugh, before saying, "That's how all my friends reacted, too. They were amazed I hadn't broken up with her months before that."

Liz forgot her embarrassment as her sadness for him returned. "Sorry she broke your heart."

"It was for the best. It freed us both to follow our dreams." He didn't sound like someone trying to hide pain; he meant it.

A part of her felt like she shouldn't ask the next question on her mind, but another part of her just had to: "You don't miss her at all?"

"Well, naturally, I still care about her, but I don't wish we were still together. It was a long time ago. We've both moved on."

She wondered how long "long" was to him (5 years? 10?), but there was something more important to ask. His last statement could only mean one thing: "Oh? Found someone else?" she asked with a knowing grin, like they were old friends.

He smiled the way only a lover could. "Yeah... I should have seen it a long time ago. _She_ certainly did. But I wasn't ready at the time – it was too soon. Then, later, we were chosen for the same assignment, we both accepted, we've been working together ever since, and... you get the idea."

"Oh, yes, I do," Liz assured him, as happy as she had been when her brother announced his engagement. "Why isn't she here tonight?"

"This was something I needed to do alone." Now he was confusing her again! "I thought she might not approve, but when I told her the news I'd gotten from home, and what I once promised, she understood completely. She understands the importance of fulfilling your duties better than anyone, and she knows she can trust me."

Why would...? It suddenly struck Liz who this tragic ex might be. "Hey, you're not talking about...?"

He followed her gaze over towards the bride and groom and stopped her before she could finish the thought. "What?! No, definitely not!"

She felt an inexplicable sense of relief; whatever reason he'd promised to be here, that wasn't it. Although it did raise further questions. "Then who _did_ you promise you'd be here?"

The stranger was looking at the floor as he began, but slowly raised his head as he spoke: "Someone I once let down. I wanted to make it up to her, and since I couldn't for years, this seemed like the best way. I already broke so many promises to her; I couldn't fail her again. I owed her that much."

She wanted to hear more details about that, but, this time, she resisted the urge to pry – men didn't like talking about their feelings, and the last thing she wanted was to make him uncomfortable. Instead, she said, "Well, I'm glad you came."

"So am I." The music stopped, and they stopped moving this time as well (how many dances had they danced through?), but neither of them let go, just stood there staring at each other until he asked, "What is it?"

She knew she shouldn't be staring that brazenly, but she only shook her head and looked him up and down again. "I'm sorry, it's just... _have_ we met before?"

"If you say we have, I'm sure we have..."

_Think, Liz, think..._ "What college did you go to?"

"None."

Very unexpected, but no time to dig into that. "What high school?"

"Abroad."

Liz sighed as she strained her mind to remember why she felt like she'd known this guy a long time. But if he was someone she'd known well enough to be as close a friend as she felt now, surely he'd be more memorable than some classmate she'd passed in the halls every day? She was being silly, just in a nostalgic mood because of the occasion and seeing the past in everything and everyone for no reason. She finally shrugged and said, "Well, I've never been knocked out by a tornado, so that can't be it..."

The stranger smiled at her joke. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you nervous, or spoil your evening..."

Oh, no, she hadn't given him that impression, had she? She shook her head. "You didn't. Never mind, it's nothing..." She suddenly realized what she was missing. "What's your...?"

But just as she was about to ask for his name, his left wrist started beeping loudly. He pulled his hands free, pushed back his sleeve, and looked at his... very unusual watch. She leaned forward to get a better look at it, but he quickly turned aside so that his arm was hidden from view. When he turned back, his sleeve was pushed back down. "I've gotta run," he said, neither frantically nor sadly but perfectly calmly.

There was, nonetheless, a grave resignation in his tone that made Liz laugh again. "What, your carriage about to turn into a pumpkin?"

"No, I just can't stay any longer."

"Duty calls?"

"Indeed."

"But the reception's not over..." She was about to point out the rudeness of leaving so suddenly when that sensation started creeping up on her again.

"Yes, that's a habit of mine, I suppose."

"Did you have enough time to do what you needed to do?"

He took a few seconds to consider the answer. "I think so. I kept my promise. Anything more would..." He frowned briefly, but his smile returned with a light sigh. "... well, might do more harm than good. The past should stay in the past, especially on nights where some people have no business stealing the spotlight or intruding on what should be only simple, pleasant, uncomplicated memories." During that last word, took her left hand in his right, silently bowed, raised her hands to his lips, and kissed the tips of her fingers. He raised his head and dropped her arm just as slowly and solemnly, as if he were a knight going off to battle, never to return. To complete the image, he said with seemingly complete sincerity, "It has been an honor dancing with you tonight." Liz felt like she _ought_ to have the urge to laugh and was surprised she had none at all, like she _should_ think it was ridiculous but could only find it sweet and charming, even though she couldn't imagine feeling this way had it been any other guy on the planet. No, she had _definitely_ never met anyone like him before. "I hope you've enjoyed our brief time together as much as I have."

She felt herself blush for the first time all day. She swallowed once and cleared her throat to buy herself some time to think of the best reply. What she ended up saying was: "It's the best time I've had all evening."

He hung his head and smiled in relief, as if the jury had just declared him not guilty. "As have I, but now I must go."

She didn't understand his grave attitude, but she decided to play along. "Then this is good-bye, old friend," she said, mimicking his tone and extending her hand.

The stranger took a step towards her and raised an eyebrow in response, like he was in on a joke, and she wasn't. When she felt him begin to release her hand, she held it fast, making sure her grin matched his own. "It does feel like we're all old friends, doesn't it?"

His grin didn't change a fraction as he nodded. "Indeed... I wonder why..." It was like he was challenging her.

"Anything I should know?"

"You know, but if you don't know you know, there's no point in giving it away."

"Whatever." Men had a strange sense of humor. Laughing at his little game, Liz released his hand. "Well, thanks for a great time. Glad I got to meet you." She was sorry the fun was ending, but not brokenhearted like she'd fallen madly in love at first sight or anything (which he wasn't at liberty to receive, anyway), just disappointed that she hadn't gotten to know him better. Who was he? Well, there was no time to find out from him, and his status meant he couldn't exchange numbers with someone of her gender. She'd have to ask around. She spotted the bride posing for a photo with some of her bridesmaids across the room.

"I'm glad I got to spend time with you. Good luck with everything." The stranger raised his arm and waved as he stepped past her, in the direction of the ballroom's double-doors.

Liz waved back and took a step in the opposite direction, towards where she'd seen her new sister-in-law. "You, too. Good-bye, sir."

Her back was already turned on him when she heard him say, "Good-bye, Lizzie."

_Lizzie?_ She'd taken three quick steps before she slowed down, her smile curving down into a puzzled frown. Lizzie... Wow, nobody had called her that in years. Weird that he would use that. No one in her family would dream of it, not since she was, what, ten or eleven when she'd started forbidding anyone to call her that; after she'd finished elementary school, she'd told everyone it was too babyish. Nobody had called her "Lizzie" since... since...

"_Lizzie! Come back! I can change!"_

She gasped as she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening at the sight in her mind.Why was her heart beating so fast? It was just a memory of her first "boyfriend" in fifth grade. She hadn't thought about him in years; he'd moved away right after they'd "broken up" – she hadn't seen or heard from him in... over twenty years. So why was she shaking...?

In a flash, she remembered: explosions, crashing planes, mind control machines, portals to other worlds, being held prisoner in a treehouse... scenes she hadn't thought of in years. Things you could never talk about, things no one would believe, things that didn't make sense, things your rational adult mind buried and told you to forget.

They _hadn't_ just been a little boy and girl playing at "going out" like any other kids! They had been through serious trials and ordeals together...

The guests, the room, the reception disappeared as she watched millions of images flash through her mind at light speed, each one like a puzzle piece falling into place, trying to tell her something she desperately needed to know. The trail of memories stopped at the wedding... no, not here, not today... another wedding, twenty years ago... She still remembered the last time she saw him. Saying good-bye. How angry she'd been at him and why. How he'd let her down...

"_How could you leave me standing at the altar of my sister's wedding?!"_

"Liz, are you all right?"

She felt a hand touch her shoulder but pushed it away, shaking her head and rubbing her brow as she fished around in her mind for the answer. Slowly, as if fighting against a current, it all fell into place – the voice, the eyes, the expert movement, the cryptic mention of a promise, the running off with no explanation, the unwavering intensity...

No, it couldn't be! How? Why?

"_When your brother gets married, I swear I won't miss that one!"_

"Wait!"

Time, place, and context were completely obliterated from her mind. She forgot where she was, who could see her, what she was doing, everything but the fact that she had to move. She was sure she pushed at least three people out of her way. She was screaming something but would never know what. She hit the doors running, pushed them open, and dashed through them in one, continuous movement. She ran down the hall, her heart pounding, her breath unable to come fast enough. She had to reach him! Nothing else mattered!

The cool night air hitting her face as she opened the last door snapped her back to full consciousness in enough time to hear her voice call, "Nigel!" She stopped on the threshold of the building and turned her head in every direction. He couldn't have gone far. Where was he? Where had he gone? It was dark now, but she could see a few people around, in the parking lot and under street lights. He wasn't one of them. He'd disappeared.

"No…" She was too late. She still jogged forward, her head turning in every direction. She was cut off by the sight of something over in the grass by one of the bushes lining the path up to the building. With no idea what she expected to find, she ran over.

A small, perfectly round patch of grass was scorched black. A few wisps of smoke rose from it. Lying on top if it was a man's black suit jacket. She bent down and, as she picked it up, noticed some smaller items under it – gold cufflinks, a gray tie, a brown toupee, a wallet with a few small bills... and a folded up piece of paper. Without standing up, she began to open it, paused for a second, then finished unfolding it.

_Told you I wouldn't miss it._

She couldn't resist the grin or the short laugh that escaped her before she stood up, holding the note in her left hand and the jacket in her right. She looked at the paper once more before letting it drop. She held the jacket up in both hands, the back facing her. He'd grown up so much. They both had.

She raised her head, but she didn't look around her. Her gaze naturally drifted up to the sky. Was he up there somewhere, this ghost from her past who had returned to complete his last piece of unfinished business? For a moment, she wondered what it would have been like if she'd joined him, if things had ended differently all those years ago. She might be by his side right now... but the fancy was gone in a second. She felt no longing, only joy from the knowledge that he was all right, that he didn't hate her, that he hadn't forgotten her. Wherever he was, he was where he belonged, and so was she. The past was in the past...

But it shouldn't all be forgotten.

"You're off the hook for that one, Nigel Uno." Still holding the jacket in her right arm, Liz turned and walked back to the reception, feeling more excited, yet also more at peace, than she had all day – there would be no more bouts of nervousness or gloom tonight. As she opened the front door, she turned around and gave the sky one last glance. "Thanks… Number One," she said to the boy who never could have been a part of her future but would always be a treasured part of her past.


End file.
